★『twenty-six』
I've never read the bible, not even a single page of the first chapter - whatever it's called, Book of Job? I've never been to church. I've never prayed. In high school, when we read Paradise Lost, I scanned over one paged and then used the book for a coaster. I didn't know what terms like Benediction, Holy Trinity, Anti-Christ, or Salvation even meant.. I didn't even know that a Demon was actually a fallen angel.
And so the story goes, on my 21st birthday I find out my parents sold my soul to the Devil. The real goddamn devil, not some fancy pants metaphor. Yeah, I knew I was fucked. That I'm on course for Hell, even if I've done nothing to deserve it. It wasn't until I came here that started to really realize the truth. To think hard and long about what's waiting for me in the end. Back home, things snapped past me too fast for everything to sink in -- I mean, within a few months of selling my soul, I was buried alive and my Dad with me. He died.
I don't think it's even sank in that he's gone. I didn't have time for that.
But now I have all the fucking time in the world. Time to Breathe. Too much time to think and reflect and imagine what it will be like to burn in hell. Get ripped to pieces or basted or flayed or whatever terrible shit they do down there. I should read Dante's Inferno, shouldn't I?
But to top it off? I get to be the Devil's bounty hunter! Bet you didn't know that. The soul thing, yes. But the Reaper thing? The whole sending back escaped souls with crazy powers back to hell deal? Sounds awesome, doesn't it? Except every time, there's a high chance that I'll be killed. And if I'm killed, guess where I get to go?
It's not something I can put off in my mind. I can't tell myself not to worry and just live the life I've got to the fullest. Even if I wasn't his bounty hunter, Satan still makes sure I know he's there, you know? Ice cream socials. Transporting me to awkward places or for a showing of dead bodies. Or dying bodies. Or appearing in my bed or on my toilet just before I'm about to take a piss. Do you know how many times that bastard has tried to tempt me? He's failed every time, but I wonder- I wonder if what Tony said that night. That night he tried to fucking bury me alive is true. He brought it up too, didn't he?
We're connected irrevocably, and it's something I can't change. Sometimes it's fucking frightening to think about.
And so the story goes, on my 21st birthday I find out my parents sold my soul to the Devil. The real goddamn devil, not some fancy pants metaphor. Yeah, I knew I was fucked. That I'm on course for Hell, even if I've done nothing to deserve it. It wasn't until I came here that started to really realize the truth. To think hard and long about what's waiting for me in the end. Back home, things snapped past me too fast for everything to sink in -- I mean, within a few months of selling my soul, I was buried alive and my Dad with me. He died.
I don't think it's even sank in that he's gone. I didn't have time for that.
But now I have all the fucking time in the world. Time to Breathe. Too much time to think and reflect and imagine what it will be like to burn in hell. Get ripped to pieces or basted or flayed or whatever terrible shit they do down there. I should read Dante's Inferno, shouldn't I?
But to top it off? I get to be the Devil's bounty hunter! Bet you didn't know that. The soul thing, yes. But the Reaper thing? The whole sending back escaped souls with crazy powers back to hell deal? Sounds awesome, doesn't it? Except every time, there's a high chance that I'll be killed. And if I'm killed, guess where I get to go?
It's not something I can put off in my mind. I can't tell myself not to worry and just live the life I've got to the fullest. Even if I wasn't his bounty hunter, Satan still makes sure I know he's there, you know? Ice cream socials. Transporting me to awkward places or for a showing of dead bodies. Or dying bodies. Or appearing in my bed or on my toilet just before I'm about to take a piss. Do you know how many times that bastard has tried to tempt me? He's failed every time, but I wonder- I wonder if what Tony said that night. That night he tried to fucking bury me alive is true. He brought it up too, didn't he?
We're connected irrevocably, and it's something I can't change. Sometimes it's fucking frightening to think about.